Gospel Story Finder

“It just doesn’t seem like Christmas this year,” Porter said. He dropped his backpack on a kitchen chair. “There’s no snow. And I don’t have any friends here.”
“Well, we can’t change the weather,” Mom said. She gave him a hug. “And I know moving has been hard for you.”
“I just wish I had some friends,” Porter said. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.
“What’s that?” Mom asked.
“It’s about a food drive at school.”
“Let me see,” she said, handing him a cup of hot chocolate. “Maybe if you help with the food drive, you can meet some new people and make friends.”
“Maybe.”
Porter grabbed a handful of marshmallows and started dropping them into his cup one by one.
“Really,” Mom said. “I bet there’s a way to make friends and help people feel the Christmas spirit.”
Porter wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking about his friends in his old neighborhood.
“Remember when we did the lemonade stand with Anne?” he said. “I wish we could do that again.” Plop. Plop. Plop. He added three more marshmallows. “But nobody wants to drink lemonade in December, even if there isn’t any snow.”
“Maybe they’d like to drink something warm instead.”
“Like hot chocolate …” Porter glanced at his cup. “I know! We could have a hot chocolate stand!”
Mom smiled. “Let’s do it.”
Porter looked at the food drive flyer.
“What if we asked people for a can of food instead of money?” Porter said. “Then we could donate the food to the food drive.”
“A cup of cocoa for a can of food,” Mom said. “I like it.”
They went right to work. Mom made sure they had plenty of hot chocolate, disposable cups, and marshmallows. Together they made flyers and gave them to all of their neighbors. On Saturday morning the Cup-for-a-Can Cocoa Stand was open. And it was busy.
“That man just handed me 10 cans of food for one cup of hot chocolate!” Porter said to Mom. “I’ve met lots of people, and they’re all really friendly.”
Soon he had stacked more than a hundred cans of food on a table next to the cocoa!
“I can’t wait to tell Anne about this,” Porter said. “This is even better than the lemonade stand. Maybe she’ll do hot chocolate too.”
“I’m proud of you,” Mom said. “You found a way to meet people and help others too.”
“It feels more like Christmas now,” Porter said. “Even without the snow.”

Another new member is Rocío Flores Rojas, 15. “Elder and Sister de la Cruz taught and baptized my mother,” she says. “At first I didn’t want to be baptized. But they kept coming and talking to me about the word of God. And they treated me so well—like they do all the people. I came to know that their message was true and was baptized last Sunday. More than anything, we would like them to stay with us forever. But when they have completed their mission, they have a right to return to their family.”

We may experience hunger, for instance, but if so, we can still respond as did the widow who used the last of her meal to feed Elijah (see 1 Kings 17:8–16). Such sharing amid real deprivation and poverty is always touching. Earlier in his life, a wonderful bishop of my youth, M. Thirl Marsh, repeatedly tried to be hired at the mines during the Depression. Being underage but large of stature, he persisted and was hired, but several friends were not. Apparently, on more than one occasion after his hard day’s work, generous young Thirl shared his earnings equally with these friends until they too were hired. No wonder he was such a caring shepherd of the flock later on.

In January of 1999, an earthquake in the central mountain region of Colombia left the city of Armenia devastated. Many Church members lost their homes. They found shelter in the four undamaged chapels but urgently needed food and clothing.
The Relief Society and priesthood leaders swung into action, and donations from members throughout Colombia poured into a designated chapel in each city. Seven-year-old Neidi had come with her parents to the chapel in the city of Cali and watched as Bishop Villareal received donations from members.
“Bishop, how can I help the children in Armenia?”
“Neidi, your parents have already helped.”
She went to the other end of the chapel and observed that little clothing and no shoes for children were being packed. Neidi came back to the bishop with her shoes in her hand. “Now I know how I can help. Please give these shoes to another little girl in Armenia who has lost hers.” Her bare feet made no sound as she slipped away.

Photograph courtesy of Ariana O.
Ariana O. of Queensland, Australia, along with several other students in her music class at school, was given an assignment to compose a song about something uniquely American. “I had a few things going around in my head,” says Ariana, “but the Restoration stood out to me the most. It was something I was passionate about and something I am very proud to be a part of.”
On the Friday after she finished writing the song, the teacher told the students that they would perform their songs the following Monday. “When I went home that evening, I practiced whenever I could so that I could surprise Mum and Dad with what I wrote the song about,” says Ariana. “I had to wait the whole weekend, and I was a little bit scared as well. I didn’t know how my classmates would react, and I didn’t want them to think I was weird.”
On Monday, the teacher announced the performances. As it turned out, only Ariana and one other group had actually written a song.
“I was nervous,” she says. “One group wrote a song about cowboys and Indians, and I wrote a song about Joseph Smith. The group who wrote their song about cowboys went first, and they were just as nervous as I was, but there were two of them performing. When it was my turn, I said a little prayer and went to the piano. I started playing, and it was like it was just me and the piano. Once I finished, I explained what the song was about, and then I sat back down.”
Though Ariana wasn’t sure how the others felt, she was glad to have shared her testimony in that way. And, she says, “I knew that I had grown spiritually.”

I couldn’t help looking back. My feet were moving one way and my heart the other. Through my tears I could see Mama still standing on the porch. She was getting smaller with each step I took.
So many times I had asked her, “Must I be the one to go, Mama? I am only eleven years old. Are you sure I can do it all by myself?” And each time she reassured me. Yes, I was the one to go. And yes, this was Heavenly Father’s way for me to reach Zion. With Mama praying for me, I knew I shouldn’t doubt.
Mama wanted to go west with the Saints. She had no money for such a great undertaking, but she was a woman of faith and knew that her prayers would be answered.
Then Mama found a way for me to go. An elderly blind lady needed a companion to help her walk across the many, many miles of hazardous terrain to the mountains of Utah. So that is how I came to leave my mother and my family and cross the plains without them.
When I left, tears were streaming down my face. With all the courage I could muster, I clasped hands with the blind lady and walked away.
My eyes became her eyes. I guided her with my sight; she guided me with the wisdom of her years. Together we walked every step of the way through the dust and the dirt of the crude trails. After many long, tiring days and weeks and months, we made it!

Throughout many years of service in the Church, I have seen faithful members who have consistently applied these principles in their lives. This is the case of a single mother whom I will refer to as “Mary.” Sadly, Mary went through a tragic divorce. At that point in time, Mary recognized that her most critical decisions relating to her family would be spiritual. Would praying, scripture study, fasting, and church and temple attendance continue to be important to her?
Mary had always been faithful, and at that critical juncture, she decided to cling to what she already knew to be true. She found strength in “The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” which, among many wonderful principles, teaches that “parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness” and to teach them to always observe God’s commandments. She continually searched for answers from the Lord and shared them with her four children in every family setting. They frequently discussed the gospel and shared their experiences and testimonies with one another.
Despite the sorrows they went through, her children developed a love for Christ’s gospel and a desire to serve and share it with others. Three of them faithfully served full-time missions, and the youngest is now serving in South America. Her oldest daughter, whom I know pretty well, who is now married and strong in her faith, shared, “I never felt like my mom raised us alone because the Lord was always in our home. As she bore her witness of Him to us, we each began to turn to Him with our own questions. I am so grateful she brought the gospel to life.”
Brothers and sisters, this good mother was able to make her home a center of spiritual learning. Similar to the Ethiopian’s question, Mary asked herself several times, “How can my children learn except a mother should guide them?”
My dear companions in the gospel, I testify to you that when we earnestly, heartily, firmly, and sincerely seek to learn the gospel of Jesus Christ and teach it to one another with real purpose and under the influence of the Spirit, these teachings may transform hearts and inspire a desire to live according to the truths of God.
I testify that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. He is the Redeemer, and He lives. I know He directs His Church through His prophets, seers, and revelators. I also testify to you that God lives, that He loves us. He wants us back in His presence—all of us. He listens to our prayers. I bear my testimony of these truths in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One night my mom and I were reading the Friend. I was feeling sad because we had to move for Dad’s new job. Then we read “Moving” in the May 2012 Friend. I felt happy because the family in the story had to move too. Then we kept reading and found out that the grandparents in the story were going on a mission, and the family was staying in their house. I was surprised because we were going to live in my grandparents’ house while they went on a mission too! I’m glad we read that story. It made me feel much better about moving.

How about this for a conversion chain? Mark Lybbert invited Sharon Violette and Linda Prothero to the institute in Yakima, Washington. Their baptisms, and that of Linda’s twin, Brenda, resulted. Then Sharon and Brenda brought Tina Manzano into membership. A cousin of the twins was next—Cheryl. They went to a doughnut shop and introduced themselves and the gospel to Dan Kelso, who joined the Church. Marilyn Dailey showed some interest, and the institute crowd went to work. Now Marilyn and seven other family members are in the Church. Cheryl also brought her mom and two sisters to firesides at the institute. Baptisms followed. Wow!

I have also always remembered his mission stories. Even though he was married and had a child, Grandpa was called to serve as a missionary in Mexico City—just as the Mexican Revolution broke out. One time, federal soldiers accused him and his companion of being spies and threatened to shoot them on the spot. Remembering the story of Abinadi, Grandpa said, “You can’t kill us because we haven’t delivered our message yet. Take us to the president.” He and his companion were taken to the presidential palace, where they gave the president a Book of Mormon and taught him for two hours. The president discovered that my grandpa was from his hometown and asked, “Do you know Francisco González?” Grandpa replied, “Yes, he’s my father.” The president said, “He was my teacher when I was a little boy! Now that I know who you are, is there anything I can do to help you in your work?” The missionaries asked for a letter with the presidential seal and signature, stating that they had permission to preach. The president gladly gave them the letter, and they were able to continue their missionary work.

My brothers and sisters, I am sure each of you has been touched by the stories of the Church’s great relief efforts to members stricken by floods or earthquakes. Our hearts go out to these people in need. There are, however, other needs—social-emotional needs—that can be just as devastating as any natural disaster. And these needs cannot be met with truckloads of food or clothing. I would like to illustrate several of them in my talk to you today.
Let me begin by reading a letter which relates the tragic story of a young man who became entangled in a way of life which led him to violate the most sacred of God’s commandments:
“I know not why I write this letter. Perhaps I grasp at last straws before it’s over or whatever. I seek help, without hope of receiving it. Not because I doubt that the Church is true, but because of my sins. Let me say here, I love my parents and do what I am able to help them, but my strength is going, and what flicker of spiritual life there is left in me spends itself on writing this letter.
“At a very young age,” this young man continues, “I became convinced that my father didn’t love me. It stemmed from an encounter when one evening I went to kiss him good night and he brushed me away. I’m sure he doesn’t remember, and it had no significance to him, but I was devastated: my entire sense of security and my world crumbled into ashes as I stood there.
“Not knowing what else to do, I ran from this new stranger in a panic to my mother and whispered tones to her of my calamity, which she denied, but did not convince me. That night I watched my father as I stood in the shadows of my darkened bedroom. I swore to myself that I would close the door until he sought to open it. I would ignore him until he sought after me.
“He didn’t notice. If he did, he never asked me what was wrong. Well, needless to say, through the next years I went through the motions and rebelled to get his attention, which I got in the form of anger. At any rate, I developed into a homosexual, a vitiating disease, and was soon entrenched in my prison. I didn’t know myself. And I have felt for more years than I can remember that the Lord didn’t love me either. From age seventeen to about twenty-three I began using drugs. …”
Well, you can imagine where his life went from there. This young man closes his letter with these words: “Thank you for your time. Can you help me? Is there reason for me to help myself? Can you convince me? Can you spare the time? I’ve not much left.”
Yes, young man, there is help available to you.
We know that the Lord does love this young man, as he loves all of us. This individual has since been referred through the priesthood to an LDS Social Services agency. Hand in hand, his priesthood leader and his LDS Social Services caseworker will help this brother learn what he didn’t learn at his father’s knee—that the Lord loves him and that the gospel’s plan of repentance and forgiveness is available to all.
In this next situation, Janet, as I will call her, was involved in serious transgression. After discovering that she was expecting a child out of wedlock, her bishop referred her to LDS Social Services. Instead of being condemned by staff personnel as she had feared, she found love and understanding—the love and understanding that she needed to help her repent. With the help of her bishop and the agency, she began to seek the Lord’s forgiveness. She was introduced to foster parents who lovingly accepted her into their home. She attended church regularly and studied the gospel. An unwed parents group sponsored by the Church helped her to realize the magnitude of her transgression and to resolve to start a new life. She began to more fully understand herself and her relationship to her Father in heaven.
“I went through an awful lot,” she recalled. “But I felt like such a load was lifted by being able to share the burden with those who understood. I’m so grateful for all the help I received from my Heavenly Father.”
In the final story, Verinda, a vibrant young Apache girl, was accepted into the Indian Student Placement Service. She later gave this testimony:
“When I first participated in this program eight years ago, I got off the bus with only the clothes on my back and a few small possessions in a shoebox. I came from a humble home. My people are humble. But you have opened your hearts unto me. For that I am thankful. Now I can go home with a brand new suitcase of clothes. But that is not my wealth. I am wealthy because that which is inside of me is as precious as all of the wealth in this world. I have a testimony of the gospel. I know that Jesus is the Christ and that God lives and answers prayers. I now have a goal—something I can strive for.”
Brothers and sisters, these three stories are in sharp contrast to the world around us. Today, we suffer not only from physical pollution, but from mental pollution as well. Perversions of our basic values are offered as the “new morality.” Cheating and violence are often accepted as a means of achieving individual and group desires. Working mothers and weekend fathers abdicate their parental responsibilities. Husbands and wives separate at the smallest argument. Natural affection is waning. I remember as a bishop an incident of a couple who lost custody of their two young children—one in diapers, the other too young for school. Each day the mother and father went to work and left their children locked in the house to fend for themselves. When questioned by the judge, the mother was quite surprised. She said that they had always left sufficient food for the children to last until suppertime! Can you imagine such an attitude?

Hermann Mössner was nervous as he walked into the chapel. He and his friends from camp were still in their uniforms, marked with the letters “P.O.W.” Everyone knew those letters stood for “prisoner of war.” What would the members of the branch think? Would they see him as their enemy?
The chapel was near Leeds, England. But Hermann wasn’t from England. He was from Germany. After being forced to fight in World War II, Hermann had been captured by British soldiers and sent to an English prison camp. This was his first time at church in a long time.
Hermann took a deep breath as he sat down on one of the benches. He could see the branch president, George Camm, sitting at the front. President Camm was Hermann’s friend. Seeing him smile made Hermann feel better.
Several months ago, President Camm came to visit Hermann at camp after hearing that he was the only member of the Church there. At first Hermann was a little worried. Would President Camm hate him? Their countries had fought against each other in the war, after all.
But when Hermann and President Camm met, they smiled and shook hands. Then they prayed together. They sang songs and talked about the gospel. They even took the sacrament together.
“I love you, my brother,” Hermann said when President Camm had to leave. He saw tears in President Camm’s eyes as he waved goodbye.
After that, President Camm visited Hermann every Saturday. During the rest of the week, Hermann did his best to live the gospel. He shared his testimony with the other prisoners while they worked in the fields. He answered their questions while they carved wood after a long day’s work. Sometimes he prayed with them.
“Hey, Hermann,” one of the prisoners had said one night. “Could I join in with you and Mr. Camm on Saturday?”
Hermann looked up from the block of wood he was carving. He smiled. “Of course!”
“May I too?” another prisoner asked.
Hermann and President Camm were very excited to teach more of the prisoners. Soon some of them even wanted to be baptized!
And now, as Hermann looked around the chapel at the families waiting for church to start, he felt peace. Some members were nervous around Hermann at first. But soon everyone came to trust him. The other prisoners who wanted to learn about the gospel got permission to leave camp to go to church with Hermann on Sundays. Later, Hermann was even called to be the branch Sunday School president.
Time passed, and Christmas got closer. Hermann wanted to do something to thank the members who had been so kind to him. Then he had an idea! It was almost time for the branch Christmas party. Hermann gathered more blocks of wood and started carving. One by one, he turned the blocks into little cars, elephants, planes, trains, and horses.
Finally the day of the party arrived. Everyone ate food and sang Christmas songs together. Hermann and his friends from camp sang Christmas songs in German.
Then Hermann pulled out a big bag. Inside were 40 wooden toys! Hermann gave one to each Primary child. It was a Christmas they would never forget.

“You have to tell Ba (Father), Loan (LoAnn).”
Loan looked up at her older brother as they walked home through the snowdrifts. “I … I know, Giang.” She buried her nose deeper into her scarf. “But what will he think when he finds out that I’m singing the solo tonight in our school’s Christmas play?”
Her brother’s answer came in frosty puffs. “I don’t know. It is a great honor that Miss Watson chose you out of all the third graders. But I’m afraid that Ba will not approve. After all, he is a leader in our Buddhist religion, and we do not celebrate Christmas.”
Loan felt tears stinging her eyes. “I wish Ba would understand. Sometimes it’s hard being different. If I was good at something, maybe I could make friends easier.”
“I know, Loan, and you are good at singing.” Her brother put his arm around her. “It’s just that Ba might not like your singing in a Christian program.”
“Loan? Giang?” Their mother called from the front porch.
“We’re coming, Ma (Mother).”
“Ooh, you are wet.” Ma bent to help with their coats, giving them each a kiss. Loan caught the comforting scent of almond shampoo as her mother’s hair swished against her silky aó-dài (long, side-split dress worn over pants). More good smells drifted from the kitchen.
“Mmmm. What’s for dinner?”
“I’m making something special tonight—fish, with your favorite nu’o’ c mam (fish sauce), and mangoes for Uncle Lan.”
“Uncle Lan?” Loan asked.
“Yes, remember? Têt Nguyên Dán (Vietnamese Lunar New Year) is early this year—at the end of January. Uncle Lan has offered to help us get ready for it by fixing our broken couch. Your Aunt Mai and I will sew new clothes.”
Tet, a day filled with fireworks and gifts of money, celebrates the renewal of body and spirit. Loan wondered how she could have forgotten her favorite Vietnamese holiday. She’d forgotten other things too—Buddhist relatives, neighbors, and friends. What would they think if they found out about her solo? Ba would be ashamed.
But it was too late. The play was only a few hours away. Loan stood in the middle of the room, her foot tracing a pattern in the rug. “Ba?”
“Yes?” He looked up from his book. Then, seeing something in her face, his voice turned deep and warm. “Come here, little one. What is it?”
She drew closer, and he put his big hands on her narrow shoulders. Suddenly she was not afraid. Her story poured out.
“Ahhhh.” Wise lines crinkled around her father’s eyes. “Loan, you are too young to remember our home in Vietnam. When you were born in Saigon, it was the season of the rains. Outside our window was a flowering bush where a thrush lived. All day long he sang. I think that that little bird of Saigon gave you his beautiful voice.”
“Then you do not mind?”
“No, my little bird. I am proud for you to be chosen. Go tonight and do your very best. Sing with all your heart and soul.”
“Oh, Ba, thank you.”
“How will you get to the school?”
“One of my classmates, Molly, and her parents will pick me up on the way. There will be a party afterward for my class members and their families in our classroom.”
“I see.” He nodded slowly. “But I wish you to come straight home after the performance. I will send Giang to walk with you.”
“Yes, Ba.”
Loan saw her mother standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry I won’t be here for your special dinner,” she said.
“Do not worry.” Her mother smiled softly. “Hurry, and I will have some food for you before you leave.”
A few hours later Loan climbed the platform in the school auditorium. It was time for her solo, “Silent Night,” the final song in the Christmas play. As she took her place by the nativity scene, the rest of her class filed onstage behind her, holding pinpoint flashlights.
“Shhhh,” Miss Watson signaled. The auditorium lights dimmed, and the curtain swept back to reveal a sea of faces. Loan could feel her knees begin to tremble nervously. Her mouth felt dry. Then Ba’s words floated into her memory: “Sing with all your heart and soul.” She pictured the thrush singing in his flowering bush, and her voice sailed out over the audience, high and pure. “… Sleep in heavenly peace.” On her closing notes, the lights went out. Only the children’s flashlights dotted the dark like a sprinkle of stars. The applause was thunderous.
As the curtains closed, Molly hugged Loan. “You were wonderful,” she whispered. Miss Watson and Loan’s classmates beamed at her.
Loan smiled, too, but her pleasure didn’t last long. Her classmates were already hurrying off the stage to join their families. They were getting ready for the party, and Loan knew that she must leave with Giang.
As the lights went up, Loan spotted Giang in the back of the auditorium. Then her eyes widened. Uncle Lan and Aunt Mai were beside her brother, and next to them, smiling proudly, were Ma and Ba!
They came to hear me sing! Loan realized. Tears blurred her vision.
Suddenly Molly was beside her on the stage. “I hope you’re coming to the Christmas party, Loan.”
“Yes, … I think I am.”
Molly waved to Loan’s mother and father. “Your house was so cheerful tonight when we picked you up. Were you celebrating something?”
“We’re getting ready for our new year—Tet.” Loan hesitated. “W-would you like to come over and see sometime?”
“Could I?” Molly linked her arm through Loan’s. “I’d like that very much.”
Together they ran toward the side of the stage. Loan felt her heart soar and sing like the little bird of Saigon.

The past six months have gone by quickly as the work of the Church has moved forward unhindered. It was my privilege just over a month ago to dedicate the Gilbert Arizona Temple, a magnificent structure. The evening before the dedication, a cultural event was held at the nearby Discovery Park. Twelve thousand young people performed a 90-minute program. The dancing, the singing, and the musical performances were outstanding.
This area had been experiencing an especially dry season, and I believe many prayers had been sent heavenward over the preceding several weeks for much-needed rain. Unfortunately, it came just before the performance and stayed for the entire production! Despite the fact that the youth were soaked through with the rain and chilled from the cool temperature, we all felt the Spirit of the Lord. The theme of the program, “Live True to the Faith”—think about that: “Live True to the Faith”—was portrayed magnificently by smiling and enthusiastic young men and young women. Despite the cold and the rain, this was a faith-filled and inspiring experience these young people will ever treasure and will be relating to their children and grandchildren in the years to come.

In 1989, Yuri and Liudmila Terebenin of St. Petersburg (then called Leningrad) and their daughter, Anna, were visiting friends in Budapest, Hungary. A Latter-day Saint friend invited them to church, where they felt the Spirit and decided to meet with the missionaries. They were eventually baptized. Though initially the only members of the Church in St. Petersburg, the Terebenins were not left alone for long. Members of the Church from Finland were already sharing the gospel with Russians, including Anton Skripko, who became the first Russian baptized in Russia.

How we rejoiced almost six years later when the Sydney Australia Temple was dedicated in September 1984. We drove 1100 km to attend the temple dedication. From then on, faithful saints from Melbourne and Brisbane regularly participated in weekend bus trips (12 hours each way) to the Sydney Australia Temple—leaving after work on Friday, spending Saturday in the temple and then journeying back overnight on Saturday to arrive in time for church on Sunday.

Evan’s inspiration to help orphans living thousands of miles away in China began with his visit to that country in December of 1996. Evan accompanied his parents, Dave and Mary Pressley, when they adopted his little sister, Marianne Kai Yue. “After I got home, I just wanted to help some babies who are not as fortunate as my little sister, who has found a family.” Marianne and Evan have two older brothers, Ben, 19, and Dan, 18.
As a result of traditional prejudice against females, hundreds of girls are abandoned daily in China. Evan’s little sister was one of them. She had been left on a doorstep in a small village when she was only one day old. On a note attached to her clothing was the handwritten date and time of her birth: “April 15, 1996, 9:23 A.M.” Eight months later, when the Pressleys took her home, she weighed only 10 pounds. Poor nutrition is a fact of life for Chinese orphans. Their caregivers are very loving but lack the funds to feed the babies well.
In the spring of 1997, Evan sent a handwritten letter to Lily Nie and Joshua Zhong, directors of the agency the Pressleys went through to adopt Marianne, informing them of his project. His goal was to raise $2,175. He exceeded that goal and came up with a total of $2,418 (and 45 cents). He made a list of specific things he wanted done with that money: repair a child’s cleft palate and lip; buy a heavy-duty washer and dryer; provide enough formula for eight babies for one month; buy a crib and some toys; set up a small children’s health clinic. All this for $2,418! “Money goes a long way in China,” Evan explains.
In August of 1997, Evan hand-delivered the money to Lily and Joshua. And they more than honored his request. Joshua, who affectionately calls this “the Evan Project,” traveled to China last fall with the money and carefully carried out Evan’s itemized list. He even chose the child that would have the cleft palate surgery. The funds went to the Fusan Children’s Welfare House in Liaoning Province in northern China. “There are more than 150 children there,” Evan says, “and 95 percent of them are handicapped. They’ll never be adopted.”
Was Evan’s project easy? “A lot of people turned me down. I almost quit when I knocked on one man’s door and he told me that he wouldn’t contribute. He even admitted that he was hard-hearted!” Very discouraged at this point, he says, “I fasted for 24 hours and prayed. I told Heavenly Father that I really needed to do this, for the babies in China, and would he please help me find people who wanted to give.” Evan’s prayers were answered.
Several articles were published in the newspapers about the Evan Project. Later, Joshua Zhong sent a letter to one newspaper thanking the people of Craig, Colorado, for their support. He also sent a letter to Evan expressing his feelings. “I want to thank and salute you for an incredibly moving and successful fund-raising effort. I am deeply touched by your love for the Chinese children. … You are an amazing kid with a very BIG heart!”
What does this “amazing kid” have in mind for the future? You guessed it. He’s not through helping orphans in China. He’s given it a lot of thought, and he’s getting close to earning his Eagle Scout Award. For his project he’s going to do something like gathering baby formula—lots of it—to send to Chinese orphanages. After all, when you have a BIG heart, it can strrreettch a whole lot to make room for one more Chinese baby … or 50 … or 150.

A true story from Germany.
“Nobody understands me!” Gabriela shouted as she slammed her bedroom door. Today had been a hard day. Someone at school had made fun of her. And when Gabriela came home, she was grumpy and got in trouble with Mutti (Mom).
Gabriela flopped onto her bed and started to cry. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her chest felt tight with anger. She didn’t like feeling this way.
She remembered learning in Primary that she could pray to Heavenly Father whenever she needed help. She wanted to say a prayer to help her feel better, but she was too upset to focus. She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. What could she do to calm down?
After a few seconds, a thought came to her mind.
Think of things you are grateful for.
She opened her eyes and looked around her room. There was a picture on the wall of Mutti and Vati (Dad). Gabriela loved her family, even when she was frustrated with them.
“I’m grateful for my parents,” she said.
Then she thought about her cousins Gwendolyn, Lydia, and Thomas. They always shared their toys with her and made her laugh. She loved playing with them.
“I’m grateful for my cousins,” Gabriela said.
Then she looked out her window.
The sun was setting, and the sky was filled with beautiful colors—orange, red, yellow, and pink.
“I’m grateful for sunsets,” Gabriela said.
And then she thought of more things. She was grateful for the lunch she ate at school today. She was grateful for her friends. She was grateful for the apartment she lived in.
It was fun thinking of things to be grateful for! Gabriela had never realized how many good things were in her life.
She knew that the Holy Ghost had given her the idea to think of her blessings. Her heart was peaceful now. She felt ready to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” she said. “I’m sorry that I was angry at Mutti. Thank Thee for helping me feel calm and happy again. Thank Thee for sending the Holy Ghost to remind me of my blessings. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
She walked out of her room. Mutti and Vati were in the kitchen making dinner. She gave Mutti a hug.
“I’m sorry for getting mad at you,” Gabriela said.
“That’s OK,” Mutti said. “Thank you for apologizing.”
They sat around the dinner table and blessed the food. Then Gabriela had an idea!
“Let’s go around the table and each say something we’re grateful for,” she said.
Vati smiled. “That’s a good idea!”
“I’m grateful for soap,” Mutti said.
Vati thought for a second.
“Pizza,” he said. They all giggled.
Then it was Gabriela’s turn. She already knew what she wanted to say.
“I’m grateful for prayer.”
Illustrations by Simini Blocker

The second-generation Church members in the Kreiberg family are solid evidence of President Andersen’s assessment of the fortification that comes through temple marriages. For Inge Kreiberg the strongest proof of this is in their third child, Caroline.

“We wouldn’t even have Caroline if we hadn’t joined the Church,” Inge explains. Like most Danish women, Inge felt she was through with having children—“I thought two kids and a job were enough. Then one evening as I prepared to teach an institute class on women’s role in giving birth, I stopped abruptly. I knew I wasn’t practicing what the lesson taught.”

She recalls believing the lesson was teaching the truth. She knew she needed to study and pray about motherhood, and her study became intense and personal. She decided that, for her, having another child was right—a choice of no small significance in Denmark. Now Finn, Inge, and Caroline, eleven, live in Odense, in a sturdy house with lots of leaded windows, converted from a derelict railway station where Finn had played as a boy.

A true story from Fiji.
Jamesi walked out to the small fenced area where his family kept the pigs. “Here you go, pigs!” He tossed them some food, and the pigs snorted happily.
Then Jamesi carried clean water bottles to the tap outside. Cold water gushed into the bottle as he turned on the tap. Feeding the pigs and getting water for his family was how he helped every day.
“Jamesi!” Mom called. “Ready for church?”
Jamesi shut off the water tap and carried the last heavy bottle inside. “I am now!”
Every Sunday Jamesi’s family went to a Christian church in their town. He liked learning about Jesus Christ.
Soon Jamesi and his younger sisters, Unaisi and Marama, were walking with the rest of their family to church. A few stray chickens clucked in the street.
But when they got there, the doors were closed. “I forgot that the church is closed this week and next week since the pastor is gone,” Dad said.
“Is there another church we can go to?” asked Jamesi. He would be sad to not have church this week.
Dad thought for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “I think I know one.”
Jamesi and his family followed Dad back to their house. They all got into their small wooden boat at the edge of the river. Dad sat in the back to run the motor.
The boat hummed down the river. Jamesi looked for birds hidden in the tall green trees. After about 15 minutes, they saw a small church building. It had a sign that said “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“This is the church I was thinking of,” said Dad. He drove the boat to shore, and everyone got out. They could hear music coming from the chapel.
Inside, Jamesi sat down with his parents and siblings. They listened to the speakers and the songs. Jamesi felt a warm, happy feeling inside.
When the meeting was over, a nice lady came to talk to them. “We have a special class for children,” she said. “It’s called Primary. Would you like to come?”
Jamesi looked at his sisters. He felt a little nervous to go to a class where he didn’t know anyone! At least his sisters could come too. Maybe it would be fun.
“Sure,” Jamesi said.
“Let’s go!” Marama looked excited.
Jamesi and his little sisters followed the lady to a classroom. There were lots of children sitting on small chairs, talking and laughing. When Jamesi sat down, they smiled at him. Everyone was so nice!
They sang songs, and the other kids helped Jamesi and his sisters learn the words. Then they had a lesson about Jesus Christ. Jamesi felt different here than he did at their other church. It was a good different.
When church was over, Jamesi’s family climbed back into the boat to go home. Jamesi looked at the sign outside of the church building again. It had Jesus Christ’s name on it. So it must be Jesus Christ’s Church! Jamesi wanted to follow Jesus.
“Can we come here again next week?” Jamesi asked.
Mom and Dad smiled. “We were thinking the same thing,” Mom said.
“Yay!” Unaisi cheered.
Jamesi grinned. He knew they had found something special. And he couldn’t wait to learn more.
Jamesi and his family kept going to church and chose to be baptized! They are happy to be members of Jesus Christ’s restored Church.
Illustrations by Bethany Stancliffe